Carnival
by Llyn
Summary: AU Mardi Gras. When Tai sees Matt and Daisuke sees Ken it's love at first sight for our four heroes, the only problem is holding on to each other during the topsy-turvy Carnival season as limits are tested and emotions run high. Featuring masked balls, parades, parties, drinking games, and jail. Mature sexual content, language, themes. Taito. Daiken. Yaoi. Lemon right away.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Taking inspiration from three incredible AU stories that you should totally read ("Apfel" and "Wake Up" by bed of nails and sandpaper and "Ukiyo: Floating World" by Hayase Yuuki) I decided to write my very first AU Taito and Daiken.

**Disclaimer:**

Digimon is not my property. I'm just doing this for fun. Mature themes. Sexual content. Lemon RIGHT AWAY. Yaoi. All persons and events are fictional and of my own invention. I use English dub names except Daisuke, because the name Daisuke is adorable and I like saying it in my head.

**Mardi Gras 101:**

Carnival season begins January 6th and ends on Mardi Gras, aka "Fat Tuesday."

In New Orleans, Carnival is celebrated with street parades thrown by secret societies known as Krewes. Membership in a krewe is typically by invitation only, and each year the krewe members elect a court (King, Queen, Dukes, Knights, Captains, Pages, etc.) to lead their parade. The Krewes throw masked balls during the Carnival season. Some balls are formal, some are wild.

At the parades, revelers are bombarded with "throws" from krewe members riding on elaborate floats. Throws can be beads, cups, coins, plushies, bouncy balls, feather boas, condoms, coconuts, candy…anything, really. You don't have to flash for beads, that's a myth. In addition to balls and parades, house parties are hosted throughout the season, too.

In other words, Carnival is a marathon party that only gets wilder with each passing day. At midnight on Mardi Gras, the celebration abruptly ends. The day after Mardi Gras, Ash Wednesday, marks the beginning of Lent, the 40 day period of penance leading to Easter. Everyone licks their wounds and life returns to normal until next year.

Alright? Well then, bienvenue, my darlings. Lassiez les bons temps rouler!

* * *

><p><span><strong>Carnival<strong>

**Chapter One:**_** The Masque**_

All night Tai felt a prickling sensation as if he was being watched, but each time he looked up from clearing the dinner tables that filled half the hall he couldn't find his admirer in the sea of waltzing masks. Like Tai, the other waiters were just temp workers _pretending_ to be waiters, as cleverly disguised as the masqueraders they shirked their work to watch. Unless, of course, they had—like their supervisor—infiltrated the party, or were too drunk off the fumes of spilled liquor wafting up from the lush carpet to stand up, or, in Daisuke's case, too busy stripping the tux off the boy beside him using only his hungry, fume-drunk eyes. _Shameless._ Tai grinned, watching his friend drool, until he felt that strange feeling again. He snapped his head around and saw it—finally saw it: the startled twitch of a person caught staring. Right _there_, standing by the towering champagne fountain that babbled happily between two melting ice sculptures.

He sucked in a breath. Then he got dizzy, either from the sudden inhalation of liquor fumes or the sight of the tall, slender figure in the elegant, silver wolf mask, very deliberately sipping champagne as he seemed to half-listen to the krewe captain standing beside him.

The captain wore red from head to toe. Only his mouth and jaw were visible under the thick mask, the large hat with a two foot feather plume, the heavy cloak, tunic, and riding boots. He seemed three times the size of the wolf, but when the captained laughed the wolf only smirked and when the captain bowed deeply to take his leave the wolf watched him coolly, not even nodding back in acknowledgment.

Somewhere in the back of Tai's mind he heard the band playing a fanfare, calling the court to the stage, drawing the reluctant captain away. _Good. Go_, Tai thought, _Leave him alone._

When the captain reached with a mighty, leather-gloved thumb to stroke the wolf's cheek in a final farewell, the boy closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, but from where Tai stood he saw one bare, pale arm extend to shove his glass blindly into the fountain behind him for a refill. The captain walked away. The wolf watched, arms folded, taking a long drink. Then he looked at Tai. Then, quickly, looked away.

_Fuck._ Tai leaned against the table for support, gathering his courage quickly but his senses with more difficulty. He'd started walking toward the wolf before he had a plan, and was standing beside him before he even realized he'd started walking.

"Hey," he said, and when the wolf ignored him, took a seat on the refreshment table, swinging his legs carelessly, tuxedo pants riding up to reveal his harlequin checkered socks, "Can I say hey to you, or do I have to kiss your hand like that giant raspberry?"

In response, the wolf looked in the direction of the stage where the captain's red plume could be seen bobbing through the crowd, but he rested one hand on the table near Tai's thigh, subtly leaning his way.

Good enough for Tai. He started on the tip of the wolf's tapered middle finger and followed the line of his body up, past the thin wrist, the light hair of his arm, the pale, shrugged shoulder, the open vest of silver fur, the smooth, glittered skin of chest and stomach, the low slung, shiny pants of dubious fabric that clung indecently to crotch and ass and thighs, the heavy, shit-kicking boots, presumably in case someone started trouble.

_Who_ wouldn't_ start trouble?_ Tai thought, gaze rising to the wolf's face. The mask ended at his cheekbones, revealing an angular face and a stubbornly set jaw that, in Tai's opinion, needed to be kissed, framed by feathered blond hair that needed to be tugged. As if aware of Tai's stare, the wolf pulled his full bottom lip into his mouth, and when it reappeared wet, Tai's stomach flipped. He reached out to ghost his fingertips across the top of that too-close hand.

The wolf drew back as if stung, "I'm sorry, am I in your way?" he asked.

Tai's mouth opened and closed, half-certain he was being teased.

"Do you need to clear the dishes or something?" the wolf asked.

"That's right," Tai said, snatching the glass from the wolf's hand and draining it, "There you go," he said, handing him back his empty glass, "Done."

This earned him a little smirk. The wolf smoothed a hand over his blond fringe, the little bells hanging from his mask tinkling cheerfully with every movement.

"You're working," the wolf scolded, holding his flute back under the fountain.

"So are you," Tai said, grinning, and the wolf choked, looking at Tai with wide blue eyes, "My bad. Is it a secret? I'm not saying you and Red don't make a convincing couple."

"I'm not his date. I'm—the krewe hired me. There's a handful of us here."

"Right, the stand-around-looking-hot gig. Why didn't I choose that instead of pretending to know which side of the plate the spoon goes on?"

"There's always the next ball," the blond shrugged, looking out across the tables at the other servers.

"Are try outs hard? I mean, it's not just standing, is it? It's sitting and laying and kneeling and begging—" He reached out and touched the wolf on his cool cheek where the captain had caressed him, but the boy pulled away with a glare and a crash of little bells.

"Do you see me begging?"

"I'd like to."

"Hn. So you're not hanging around me for the conversation. I'm devastated," the wolf said dryly, but looking honestly a little put out.

Tai bit his lip to keep from laughing, sure that the wolf would be even more hurt if he did, "No, I want to know your name, you know, how to find you. After this," Tai's hand swept past the half-set tables, half-dressed revelers, half-drunk waiters, half-melted ice sculptures dripping on the carpet.

"No," the wolf said, "Sorry. Can't."

"Can't? Not won't?"

"Can't."

"Not won't. So…might?"

"Can't. Part of the gig. Doesn't matter who asks. Doesn't matter who," blue eyes dancing, "_begs_. Doesn't matter how pathetically desperate they look doing it—"

"Okay, I get it," Tai said, cutting him off, "No matter who? Even the king?"

The wolf tilted his head, "Are you confused about the concept of a masquerade?"

"Even if the king offers you a million dollars and a mansion for your name, you wouldn't tell him?"

Bells jingled with the shake of his head, no, "What if it's just a trick?"

Tai grinned, "I bet I can learn it."

"Whatever," the wolf said, with great disinterest, then just as suddenly was interested again, "Let me explain something to you. How much are you getting paid for," the wolf looked out over the sad shape of the tables, "this?"

"After the temp agency takes its cut?"

The wolf nodded patiently.

"Twelve an hour."

"And how much do you think I'm getting paid?"

"Thirteen?" Tai asked, innocently.

The wolf rolled his eyes. Another fanfare marked the end of the presentation of the court, and the wolf stood on his toes to watch the red plume bulldozing a path toward him, "Time for you to get lost."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going," Tai jumped up from the table, "So how much do they actually pay you?" He asked, by way of goodbye.

"Enough to make me do as I'm told."

"Yeah right," Tai was already walking away, "There's not enough money in the world."

Tai gloried in the wide smile this sparked, but turned away as a red arm the circled the boy's narrow hips from behind, drawing him backwards until he couldn't be seen in the folds of the captain's velvet cloak. _Fuck._ Tai waved off Daisuke's raised eyebrows as he passed and trudged to the back of the ballroom, depressed.

A loaded desert cart was pushed into his path by a disgruntled looking caterer, prettily overflowing with miniature pies and towering slices of cake and a menagerie of decadently iced treats in Mardi Gras colors, so Tai decided to take it on a private walking tour. He drifted through the back hallways of the convention center, grateful to breathe clear air, helping himself to a petit-four to sober up as his mind raced.

God, he loved to be teased. To have the carrot dangled so close, but just out of reach. His sex life was more like this dessert cart. No chase. No fight. Just sweet things falling right into his hands. Too fucking easy. Poor Tai. He sighed indulgently. With every shift of the wolf's hips and every singsong note of his tenor voice, Tai's cock had threatened to make the decisions. He wondered what it would be like to get sucked off by a high-end—God, is that really what he was—a high-end—cause Tai _liked_ him. He was cruel and clever and impossibly cool—a high-end—ah, fuck—a high-end hooker.

Despondent, he turned the cart around to return to the ballroom, trying to think of a way to learn his name. He could sneak behind the champagne fountain and eavesdrop. He knew for sure the pair was still standing beside it—there was no separating the wolf from the one thing in the room that he seemed to genuinely enjoy. But then, he couldn't tell the captain his name either, so that was a bust. Tai reemerged into the ballroom, eyes stinging in the poisoned air.

Why'd he have to be so fucking difficult? It was maddening. Tai took it all back as soon as he caught sight of the wolf across the room. He wanted him _now_, no chase, no fight. The wolf liked him back, he knew it, he'd _seen _it, meanwhile any ancient creep in a mask could just…could…Tai's eyes caught something sparkling on the ground ahead of him, and looked again to find an enormous gold plume extending out from under a tablecloth. Did someone on the court drop their hat? Well. That would be miraculously irresponsible. Tai fantasized briefly of emerging into the party incognito, throwing the wolf over his shoulder, and making a run for it.

Yeah, right. He'd catch a boot to the face.

He hummed innocently, pushing his cart nearby and gingerly lifting the tablecloth.

Well, well.

Tai gave the red-faced, snoring man a little shove with his foot. Nothing. Oh boy. After a surreptitious scan for witnesses, he ducked beneath the table, brown eyes glowing as if he'd found a hidden treasure chest, marveling at the elaborate golden costume the stranger wore. He had to be higher ranked than a captain. Maybe a knight, or even a duke. Tai pulled the plumed hat off his balding head. Nothing. He snatched away the mask. Nothing. He pried open an eyelid and let it snap shut. Nothing. He peeked out from under the tablecloth and pulled the desert cart closer, exchanging the lower tier of desserts for heavy golden costume pieces. There was a little struggle with the pants, the man fighting weakly against his hands before falling back, once more comatose, and the rest was, heh, cake, until the duke was snoring peacefully in his boxers, surrounded by whimsical pastries. Tai scrambled out from under the table, heart racing, and slipped back into the hallways with his trusty desert cart, tugging on doorknobs, praying to the Mardi Gras gods, until finally a door opened beneath his hand to reveal an empty storage room.

He changed into the finely beaded tunic, feeling as lucky as Daisuke, who was always winning radio call-in contests, raffles, and video poker, whose tarot readings were always pleasant and encouraging and who consistently slept with guys out of his league. Judging from the elaborate, poufy sleeves, the heavy velvet of the cape, decadently embroidered with the krewe's crest, the handmade delicacy of the mask that left only Tai's mouth and chin visible, the fantastic lush of a man he'd left under the table was of a high rank indeed. Which meant Tai would probably disappear off the face of the earth if he got caught. But he thought it might mean something else, and, carefully tucking his hair up into the hat, he decided—what the hell—to test his theory out.

Holding his shoulders back against the weight of the costume, Tai strode across the ballroom. He hoped the wolf didn't recognize him right away and throw him to the…oh. Well, he hoped he wasn't immediately exposed as an imposter. The thought had him near a panic as he approached the fountain, but his feet kept moving forward. The wolf cocked his head curiously when he drew up next to him, but that was all.

The red captain, however, dropped his eyes to the floor immediately and kept them there. _What a load of freaks_, Tai thought, watching the wolf's blue eyes flick uncertainly between the captain and himself, _Freaks with masks and rules_.

Deciding he didn't need to drag the wolf off kicking and screaming as planned, he simply offered him his arm. The boy took it with a last, confused look at the red captain's bowed head. Tai led him away, focusing very hard on keeping his tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth. The blond, clearly uncomfortable leaving his beloved champagne fountain, snuck an appraising glance his way as they walked further from the party, trying to judge the new stranger.

_Poor guy, no clue whose mercy you're at. I could be a total psychopath,_ Tai thought, passing by the table where the real duke slept on, having randy dreams, one hand sunk deep in a slice of seven layer cake.

He opened the door to the storage room and the wolf's eyes grew wide for a moment, "Are you sure?" he asked, nervously, "You know. There…there are rooms."

There are rooms. It broke Tai's heart. He placed a gloved hand on the small of his back and pushed him inside, locking the door behind him.

The wolf took in the dessert cart in the otherwise empty room and turned to Tai with a tinkle of bells—loud in the silence. Regaining some confidence, probably relieved there weren't twenty hulking men lying in wait for him, he rested a hand on his hip, waiting. He did not lower his eyes.

Under flickering florescent lights, he was no less sexy, but seemed at once more vulnerable than he had in the dreamlike atmosphere in the ballroom. Tai felt exhilarated, one step closer to pulling the wolf from this world and into his own. But first—

"Strip."

Tai reflected that if he were in the wolf's boots, being asked to get naked by a masked stranger in a storage room, his life would flash before his eyes and his bottom lip would quiver like a newborn's, but the wolf slipped out of his vest with a sinuous shrug of his bare shoulders that send a wave of heat down Tai's body.

He leaned back against the desert cart and offered Tai a boot. "Boot," he said, making a good point.

Tai knelt on the floor, feeling very royal in his grand cape, and tried to obey, but his riding glove was too thick and the zipper too small. He cursed inwardly, afraid his hands would give him away—being generally more caramel colored and less wrinkled than your average Mardi Gras duke. But the boots had to come off, and the more of the wolf's skin Tai saw the more he wanted to feel the heat beneath it. He pulled a glove off with his teeth, almost gagging. The leather was soaked through with vodka. Bless that beautiful lush. Tai unzipped the boots and chucked them across the room, triumphant.

The wolf unbuttoned his pants, unzipping so slowly Tai could hear the release of each tooth, and Tai hooked his hands around the waistband, helping him wriggle free. Both boys struggled with the final clinging inches, until, mouth dry and losing patience, Tai picked the wolf up and laid him on top of the cart. The wolf gasped as the deserts squished beneath him, but Tai was able to pull off the pants at last. He kept the wolf from sitting up with a firm hand on his chest, and gave no other warning before taking his dick, half-hard from stripping, into his mouth. His eyes closed with satisfaction at the wolf's little moan and the buck of his hips, pushing deeper into Tai's throat. He caught each hand in turn as it came down to clutch at his head, reluctantly pulling up to scold. He deepened his voice, trying not to sound like his laidback self, "Don't take off my costume. Be a good pup."

The wolf nodded, lips parted, and dropped his head back as Tai ran his tongue up and down the underside of his dick, before taking him back in his mouth and sucking. He transferred both wrists into one hand so he could use the other to play with the wolf's balls, pulling lovely moans from the blond. He let his mouth drift there, planting light kisses and sucking carefully as the wolf pulsed upward against Tai's hand, thumb teasing the pre-come from the tip. Tai wrapped a hand around the boy's hip, tugging him toward the edge of the cart. Plates crashed and sweets rained to the ground as the wolf obeyed. Tai took one long, perfect leg in his hand and lifted it, bending to lick the icing from where it had smeared on the inside of his thigh.

"_Fuck_," the wolf whimpered, then the curses tumbled freely as Tai's mouth returned to cock, to balls, and then lower than before, teasing the tight opening of his asshole while the wolf squirmed. Tai wasn't thinking, he was living second to second, dragging his tongue across quivering skin, holding back thighs that threatened to collapse in on his head. If there was any thought at all, it was simply that if getting this incredible stranger off was the only thing he ever accomplished in his life—which, at the moment, seemed likely—then he could die with a lecherous, well-earned, crooked smile on his face and not regret a thing. Tai tightened his grip on those thighs, forcing them apart, then he pushed his tongue inside.

"Oh, _fuck_. Oh, _god_," he could hear tears in the wolf's shaking voice, but he pushed against Tai's tongue, fucking himself on it, hands clinging to the edge of the cart desperately. Tai wanted to go further, harder, faster, but he was too hard to bear it anymore, so he replaced his tongue with a finger, tenderly as he could without proper lube, and rose to observe the damage he'd done.

The wolf's cheeks were wet and red, mouth open in a pant, revealing a pink tongue that Tai was scared to look at too long, his blond hair streaked with icing, chest shuddering with each breath. Barely focused blue eyes smoldered up at him from behind the mask. Tai could only guess what the wolf saw. He arched his back under Tai's gaze, begging for more attention than one little finger. Hot enough to blind, but not nearly messy enough. Tai grabbed a handful of cake, crumbling it over the wolf's stomach, smearing purple, green, and gold icing over his perfect, pale skin. Up onto his chest, down his faint happy trail, through the curls of his pubic hair, and onto his dick. The wolf whined gratefully, closing his eyes. Tai gave him a moment to breathe before adding a second spit-dampened finger. The blond bucked and Tai steadied his hip with his cake smeared hand, leaning down to capture his dick in his mouth again. He licked and sucked the icing off, until the wolf made a sound so beautiful and desperate that Tai felt he had to answer.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" he asked, adding a third finger.

"Yes," came the response, followed by another throaty moan that made Tai squeeze his eyes shut, feeling unreasonably close to coming considering he hadn't even been touched.

He licked the icing on his lips, face on fire, and asked again, voice undisguised, "You want me to fuck you?"

"_Please_," the wolf begged, noticing no change, pushing back against his fingers just as he had pushed against Tai's tongue. He brought his own fingers up to trace patterns in the icing smeared on his body. Tai couldn't blink. He had to grab the wolf's hand away when he slid it down to touch himself. The sight was too hot, and Tai's body was already burning with the effort of restraint.

"I'll fuck you," he said, moving his fingers in and out faster as the wolf writhed, the desert cart bumping against the wall in a ragged rhythm, "But you have to tell me your name."

"What?" Blue eyes fluttered open slowly, confused.

"I want to know your name before I fuck you," Tai repeated, heart pounding with anticipation.

"I…" The wolf clearly struggled to think. Maybe, Tai flattered himself, the poor pup couldn't even remember his name, _I'll call him Wolfie_, "Mm…I can't—"

"It's safe," Tai said, gently, knowing it was a question of money, and how much the wolf could lose if he broke the rules, "I'd never tell. I'd _never_ hurt you. It's just," and this was the truth, "I have to know." For good measure, he really fucked him with his fingers here, coaxing, overwhelming him, until…

"Mmm..'s Matt," he murmured between pants, so quietly Tai barely heard.

"Matt?" Tai asked, brushing the blond strands from his mouth and running his thumb over his slick bottom lip.

Matt nodded weakly, bells on his wolf mask jingling. Tai pulled his fingers out from inside of him, savoring the disappointment on Matt's face. Tracing the disappointment with his other hand, pouting lips, stubborn chin. He slipped his index finger just under the mask to touch his cheekbone, thinking that maybe if he snatched off Matt's mask as well as his own, they would see more than each other's faces. Maybe they could just get up and walk out of this bacchanal hand in hand, no harm, no foul. _Yeah right_, Tai thought, finger trailing back down to the lips he hadn't even kissed, _That'd be_ _too easy_.

"Do you want to know who I am?"

Blue eyes looked up at him, endearingly impatient, lips pursing to kiss Tai's fingertip in answer.

Tai pulled off his hat and removed the golden mask.

* * *

><p>Earlier that night Daisuke shook his head watching Tai grin his lopsided grin at what was at least a prostitute, at most a scornful prostitute. <em>Shameless.<em>

Daisuke wasn't surprised. Tai only wanted to hunt big game: the impossible, the dangerous, the—Daisuke ran his eyes over the cold, blond wolf—the terrifying. No, what surprised Daisuke was the way Ken, the new, shining center of his universe as of two hours earlier when Daisuke had jumped over a chair in his rush to introduce himself—was staring toward Tai and the wolf, too. He clutched a fork, forgotten in his hand, as he watched them flirt with a worried frown.

"Do you know them?" Daisuke asked, looking up at Ken from his seat at the table Ken was trying to set. Daisuke knew better than to actually work at these things. The real payment was in whatever bottles of liquor you could steal toward the end of the night when the party got sloppy. For now he was content to hang out with Ken, trying to crack this nut open.

Ken seemed to remember his existence with a jump, snapping out of his daze to meet Daisuke's curious eyes with a shy smile.

"I know the blond one."

"Really?"

Ken nodded, finally setting that fork down on the left of the plate, then looking back quizzically at Daisuke, whose mouth wouldn't close. _But Ken seems so innocent._

Daisuke realized he was seriously blowing it and tried to pull himself together, "That's crazy. 'Cause I know the guy making an ass out of himself in front of the blond one." Daisuke planned to more or less follow Tai's example. Only with more touching. Less open contempt. "He's got his hands full," Daisuke said, apologetic.

"Matt can handle anything," Ken said.

"Is he your..." Daisuke followed Ken to the next table, stomach in a knot, remembering at the last moment to grab his jacket off the back of his chair.

"My roommate."

Daisuke snorted, "You two must be a hit during Decadence."

Ken treated him again to the shy smile that'd had Daisuke chasing him from table to table all night. It wasn't coy, it wasn't sexy, it wasn't even intentional. It was like a little kid peeking out from behind his mom's skirt. Daisuke couldn't get enough. He realized they'd been staring at each other only when a sudden movement made him look away to see Tai leaving in a hurry, chewed up and spit out. He brushed off Daisuke's concerned look as he blew past, but Daisuke still watched him until he disappeared into a service hallway. "So, um…" he started, turning to see Ken watching his roommate untangle himself gracefully from the big red guy's embrace, "How'd you two meet?"

"Oh."

Interesting answer. Daisuke smiled to himself, watching his little nut's mind whir. There were stories you could tell and there were stories that had to be doctored up first. He waited for Ken to finish stitching together this one.

"Well, we kind of adopted each other. We're one of those adoptive families."

Daisuke nodded, familiar. Ken slipped into the chair beside him, one leg tucked under himself, one thin arm resting on the chair back.

"Matt has a little brother but he lives with their mom. And she doesn't approve of our…" Ken's gaze flicked around the debauchery, searching for anything redeemable, "…charming…" smiling shyly at Daisuke in his white dress shirt and undone tie, "…city."

"Can't blame her," Daisuke grinned, "One time in the Quarter I saw a lady cop crying."

"Exactly. So Matt doesn't get to see him. His dad isn't interested in being a part of his life, either. He's got nobody, really. And I have a big brother but, um, he died, so—" Ken turned absolutely, frantically pink, "I have no idea why I'm taking so much."

Oh, you perfect, stupid nut.

"Look, honey! How _gorgeous_," a woman swaying dangerously in a tight red dress nearly toppled onto Ken's lap, had her date not caught her at the last moment. She regained her balance with effort, adjusting the mask on her face, "What a very pretty boy. And pink!"

"Quite, my dear," answer the man, debonairly dressed in a navy blue suit and matching mask, sending a cursory glance toward Ken. He held fast to the woman's arm to keep her from stumbling, "Though not as pretty as you."

"I want to keep him," she said, giggling into her hand, then shouted, "Let go of me!" and began to beat on his wide chest with her satin-gloved fists.

Ken drew closer to Daisuke unconsciously. Daisuke, who'd been watching the display with mild interest thinking only that it seemed about the right time to start stealing liquor, finally understood that these idiots were trying to take Ken from him. He threw an arm about the boy's slight shoulders and smiled widely, "He'd love to come be your pool boy or whatever but he's gotta make it through this herpes outbreak first, y'know? Look at him squirming," Daisuke gave Ken a playful squeeze, "Why don't you just leave him your number for now."

The woman looked at Daisuke like he was a bug she'd like to squash with her spiky heel. She turned with a huff and a toss of her silver hair and marched unsteadily away, leaning on her date.

"Herpes?" Ken turned his violet eyes on Daisuke, incredulous, slipping out from under his arm.

"I panicked."

"You didn't have to—what now?"

Daisuke followed Ken's gaze back to the blond, currently being used as some kind of bargaining chip in a power struggle between guys in feathered hats and poufy sleeves. The gold guy won. Daisuke caught the blond returning Ken's stare for a moment with a reassuring grin, looking for once like a human person and not a soft-focused album cover for a single called "Sex."

Ken sighed, watching him walk away on the arm of the gold guy.

"Hey," Daisuke said, "You said he could handle anything."

"He can," Ken turned back, looked down at his hands, stood up resolutely, "I guess I should get back to work."

"No reason to," Daisuke said, but sat silently as Ken worked his way around the circular table, clearing dishes away. There had been some master schedule, surely. Cocktails, dinner, desert. And a chain of command, too. Big boss, little boss, waiters. Who knew anymore what was being served, or why. Half the tables were bare, half the tables were trashed, and then there was a little line of tables, prettily set for a desert that wasn't coming, where Ken had forged a trail through the wilderness. Daisuke watched him with growing affection, his bowed head tilting his dark hair forward, until, when Ken arrived back from his trip around the table, he pulled him back down into the chair beside him with a little yank on his wrist.

"I like you," he said.

"My hands are dirty," Ken said, pulling out of Daisuke's grip to wipe them on a dishcloth.

"Ken, I like you."

"I don't know," Ken tucked his hair behind his ear, something Daisuke wanted very much to do, "I don't really date."

"Then we'll be friends," Daisuke said, not missing a beat.

Ken considered, consciously trying to keep his hands from his hair, to twist away his nervous pleasure. He decided that, honestly, Daisuke was too cute to just be friends with. Too cute. Too sweet. Too honest. Too open. Too optimistic. Eyes too brown. Hair too mussed. Tie too undone. Hands too warm when they touched Ken's skin. They could never be just friends.

"Okay," he said.

"Great! So here's my plan. I'm gonna run up to that bartender and knock over the tip jar, and when he comes around to pick it all up, you grab as many bottles as you can. Full ones."

"What? Wait!"

Daisuke took off right away toward the disgruntled man trapped behind the open bar, trusting Ken to follow him. Even with the man's eyes trained on him throughout his approach, Daisuke just grinned back until the last moment, when he pretended to trip, flailing hands sending the tip jar rolling across the wet carpet, bills falling to the ground here and there like dried leaves.

"Goddamnit!" The bartender walked around the side of the bar as Ken stole into the opposite side, throwing all the top shelf liquor he could fit into the jacket Daisuke had, of course, forgotten in his rush, and wrapping it into an awkward bundle, then doing the same with his own jacket, adding some wine for good measure. The whole process was done in thirty seconds, then Daisuke rounded the corner, eyes wide in appreciation of his handiwork. They took off toward the back exit, weaving through tables with their bundles in their arms.

Daisuke had just started to laugh wildly when an arm shot out from beneath a table, sending him roughly to the ground, bottles spilling everywhere.

"I know you, you little punk!"

Daisuke was struggling blindly against the grip on his ankle, irrationally still reaching out for his lost booze and getting a hold of at least a nice bourbon and a bottle of gin.

"What the_ fuck_ did you do with my clothes?"

Daisuke looked toward his trapped foot to see a red-faced man in his boxers, pulling him backwards with all of his might. He started to slide further beneath the table, wondering frantically if he would be lost forever if he went under there, wondering why there was so much cake under there. He twisted to try to army crawl his way free, just as Ken arrived and place a single, brutal kick into the man's ribs, leaving him howling.

"Run!" Ken shouted, and Daisuke scrambled to his feet, taking off after him. They skidded into the hallway, Ken smiling so wildly at him Daisuke he felt like his heart might pop from the thrill of it, when suddenly a door opened out without warning, clotheslining Ken and knocking him to the ground.

"Ken!" Daisuke tried to turn around to go his side but he was hit as well. A body came flying out of the room, smacking into him and sending them both tumbling.

Daisuke shook his head, trying to get his breath back. A too-familiar mass of brown hair shook itself beside him with a groan.

"Tai?"

"Daisuke! RUN!"

"No! Tai, wait!" Daisuke started toward Ken, but Tai grabbed him by the arm and took off, "No!" Daisuke tried to break free, tried to plant his feet, but Tai was stronger, "Ken!"

"—STUPID PIECE OF SHIT! IF I EVER SEE YOU AGAIN I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!"

They burst through the doors and the cool night air stung against Daisuke's burning face. The last thing he'd seen, desperately fighting Tai to get back to Ken, was a screaming, gorgeous, absolutely naked blond trying to simultaneously hide himself behind the door and let Tai know he was a dead man.

They walked for a few blocks before Tai let Daisuke's arm go. He wriggled it around, sore.

Tai stopped to face him, taking him by the shoulders, "Hey, I'm sorry. I don't know what you had going on, but you can't go back there right now, okay?"

Daisuke nodded. Ken had the blond, Matt. They were roommates. They took care of each other. It would be okay. It would be fine. He didn't like it, but it was alright. Ken didn't get hit that bad. It wouldn't be that hard to find him again. Starting to scare himself, he decided to focus on Tai instead, "Why's your lip bleeding?"

Tai reached up to touch it, wincing as he did.

"You're covered in cake."

"Yeah," Tai said, nodding distantly.

"Tai?"

"Hm?"

"Did you steal someone's costume?"

Tai must've realized he was still in full regalia, cape billowing excellently in the wind. He dropped his head and just said, "Fuck."

Daisuke frowned at his friend, then found to his surprise that he was still holding both bottles of liquor, forgotten in his hands.

"Here," he offered Tai the bourbon.

Tai took it. Daisuke took the gin. They unscrewed the caps and toasted, silently. Tai unclasped the cape, letting it fall to the ground on the sidewalk. They started to walk again, neither talking.

Finally, after taking another pull from the bottle, Daisuke broke the silence, "What the fuck just happened?"

Tai looped an arm around his shoulder and sighed, "I think I'm in love."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: **_**The Blues**_

"Who the fuck does he think he is? He could've been _killed_. He could've gotten me _fired_," Matt held out his glass as Ken mercifully poured him a refill from the stolen wine. They'd been on the balcony drinking since waking up just past noon. The events of the ball last night, hard to believe, were not a dream after all. Matt had the love bites and the outrage to prove it, "How'd he even get a costume? That's what I want to know. Do you think he knocked someone out?"

Not expecting in answer, Matt gulped wine, pushing his blond hair from his eyes irritably as a breeze off the river reached their balcony, tossing the leaves of the hanging ferns and scattering azalea petals on the drunken crowd passing below. The sweet wine was doing wonders for his hangover, but had only fuelled his ire, "The fucking balls on that guy. I can't decide if he's stupid or crazy."

The breeze caught Ken's loose hair, iridescent in the sunlight. The fine strands danced this way and that, drawing Matt's attention away from scowling at a particularly fluffy cloud drifting by overhead. "What do you think?" he asked, blue eyes daring Ken to disagree.

Ken took a drink, returning Matt's gaze coolly, "Well, he put forth a lot of effort to learn your name. The costume. The deceit. The rimming."

Matt's eyebrows jumped, but he nodded, conceding the point, "Yeah."

"I'm not trying to upset you, but it sounds kind of hot."

Matt pushed his empty glass toward Ken and buried his face in his folded arms, "It was," he mumbled, miserably.

Ken poured, suppressing a knowing grin.

The blond recovered somewhat at the sound of wine flowing, lifting his pounding head to watch. He decided after a moment that, if he was going to suffer, he wouldn't suffer alone. He narrowed his eyes at Ken and circled a finger around the lip of his glass, innocently, "So who was that guy you had spellbound? I've seen people trip over themselves around you before—remember when that man threw himself in front of our cab?"

Ken smiled into his wine.

"But I can't remember the last time I saw you act like an idiot, too."

Ken touched his forehead self-consciously, happy his bangs hid the bruise he'd earned flying into the door. Thank the gods of Mardi Gras the wine was unharmed.

"Daisuke," he said, the name conjuring the reckless smile, the sweet brown eyes with danger hidden just behind the friendly veil. Ken knew better than to mention his new friend's connection to Matt's poufy-haired trickster, "His name's Daisuke."

It was Matt's turn to pour the wine and hide his grin. He'd seen eclipses more often than he'd seen Ken with a crush. "It's carnival," he sighed, looking out at the vibrant crowd jostling up and down Royal Street, "Stupid's in the air."

* * *

><p>"For the gazillioneth time, that's all I know!" Daisuke pled, eyes following Tai's pacing form as he made his gazillioneth lap of the overgrown courtyard.<p>

Tai smacked the leaves of a banana plant in frustration, "How'd you talk that long and not find out anything useful? No number? No last name? Not even their neighborhood? Who even are you?" Tai scolded, wishing he still had his cape so he could flap it menacingly at his protégé, "Have I taught you nothing?"

"It's not my fault! He made me feel all floaty," Daisuke hugged himself, remembering Ken's heart-shaped face and shy smile.

Tai just growled.

"To think of what I went through to learn his name when you had everything at your fingertips."

"Yeah, you sucked off a gorgeous stranger," Daisuke rolled his eyes, "Poor you."

Tai nodded in agreement, tugging despondently at a stubborn grapefruit but failing to pull it off the tree.

"We'll find them, okay?" Daisuke felt for his friend, really. He'd only flirted with Ken and already was desperate to see him again. Tai had done more than flirt. The pouting brunette collapsed in the chair beside Daisuke, shoulders hunched.

"Look, don't just give up. You know he's hot and blond and tall and named Matt. Just ask around. It shouldn't take that long," Daisuke offered, "It's a small town."

Tai jumped back out of his chair, ready to go, metaphorical cape unfurling in anticipation of certain victory, "You know what? You're right! It won't take long at all." He smacked the leaves of the banana plant in celebration.

"Great!" Daisuke beamed, happy to distract Tai from his grave disappointment in him. The guy stole a duke costume for one night and somehow ended up with a superiority complex. It made Daisuke's head spin. Not that Tai hadn't taught him everything he knew, not that Daisuke wasn't grateful, but he was already running late for work and couldn't afford to be lectured a minute longer on the art of Getting Those Digits.

* * *

><p>Daisuke pedaled his bike with abandon through the crowded French Quarter streets, dodging tourists and street performers, gutter punks and cops. He rode through a curtain of bubbles cascading from a balcony only to run directly into a rather large parade of costumed dogs and their costumed owners. His typical route blocked, he stayed to watch the dogs interacting with the delighted kids lining the curb of the narrow street, a real sucker for sweet scenes, before riding off in search of another way through. The delivery was dead center in the Quarter, a nearly impossible target to hit on this sunny Saturday. Eventually winding his way around the dogs, he found his way blocked a second time by a riotous parade of drag queens raining condoms on the crowd as they shimmied down the street. Daisuke took a deep breath and plunged in, cutting a straight path through the press of the crowd on his side of the street, the dizzying center of the parade itself, and then the crowd on the opposite side of the street, getting all four of his cheeks pinched and a few beads thrown over his neck in the process. He pawed ineffectually at a lipstick smear on his cheek.<p>

There was less of a crowd on this side of the parade, only a few blocks from his destination, so he climbed back on his bike and rode as fast as he could. That is, until he whipped around a corner and locked eyes with a hot blond on the sidewalk, narrowing missing a donkey pulled carriage only to smack into the side of a hot dog vendor's cart.

Hoping he hadn't been noticed and shushing the curses of the irate vendor, Daisuke ducked behind the giant hot dog, watching Matt—it had to be Matt—walk briskly away, a guitar case slung over his shoulder. Daisuke followed on foot, pushing his bike along, the forgotten delivery cooling rapidly in the basket. That simply _had_ to be Matt. Daisuke hadn't seen him without the mask but he recognized the tall, slender frame, the heavy boots, and the feathered hair. Daiuske could've jumped up and clicked his heels.

Unmasked, Matt was just as scary as the wolf had been. Daisuke, super-sleuth, trailed the blond just out of sight but just close enough to see that he wasn't the only one intimidated by him. Following in his wake he witnessed minor fender benders, irrational fights between couples in which both sides were accused of jealousy, girls pretending to faint into the arms of their laughing friends, bears pretending to faint into the arms of their laughing friends, catty boys thunderstruck, touching their own coifed hair with a dismayed frown, but there was not a whistle, not a growl, not a whisper of it spoken to Matt. No one so much as said hi. Daisuke wasn't surprised. Only Tai could be so stupidly brave.

After a few blocks Matt disappeared behind the French doors of a dingy jazz club. Daisuke drew up to the chalk-drawn marquee a wary minute later and read the words that would save him from any more of Tai's regal disappointment: "TONIGHT at 11: The Blue Wolves."

Daisuke's phone was in his hand and ringing as he stole a cold French fry from the grease-soaked delivery bag. When Tai picked up, Daisuke could only laugh, giddy at the thought of seeing Ken again, and say, "You're lucky I'm so fucking lucky."

* * *

><p>Tai walked into the club a little late, resolving to not look at the stage for as long as possible. Four seconds later he caught himself gaping in Matt's direction and shrugged. He never was one for self-control. No doubt, that was Matt. He couldn't take his eyes off him even to order a strawberry beer, pissing off the overworked bartender in his distraction. God, but the boy was gorgeous. He sang the blues like an angel in his battered army jacket and sipped whiskey on the rocks between each song.<p>

Squeezing his way closer to the stage, Tai found a single empty stool against the mirror-lined wall. He watched Matt through the mirror, feeling sneaky as he nursed his beer, unwilling to give up his seat to get a second round. If he'd learned anything yesterday, it was that the direct approach was dangerous when it came to the big, bad wolf.

He hadn't defended himself at the ball when the blond scrambled off the cart in a rage, shoving him roughly, throwing a plate or two, a punch or two, then planting a boot in Tai's stomach and sending him flying backwards out the door. Tai didn't defend himself now, either, with the blond so magnificently haloed by stage lights. Tai was just a simple Cajun boy, no artist. He liked to explore the swamp in Barataria that pirates once called home, or play soccer with Daisuke and his friends at the Fly. He liked to trade stories in smoke-filled dive bars or host seafood boils in the spring. He wasn't a Quarter rat, though he knew every inch of it, and he wasn't a jazz head.

But when Matt brought his harmonica to his lips, the sound bursting brightly across the bar, Tai couldn't help but close his eyes in nearly feline pleasure, feeling like a warm force was combing through his soul, picking out the nits.

Ignoring the voice in his head calling for subtlety, he swung around in his chair to watch the real Matt, rather than his reflection. The movement in the stillness of the front few rows drew Matt's eye. He nearly faltered, recognizing the mop of dark hair as Tai reached back to claim his beer. By the time Tai looked back at Matt, the blond was looking elsewhere, trying to calm himself down.

It was the opposite of the ball in every way. Matt's face was gloriously naked but his body—the body that Tai had already committed to memory, twisting in frosting and ecstasy—was covered. He stood in the spotlight and poured his heart out—vulnerable, playful, boasting, lonely, backed up by bass and drums and horns. Real heartbreak potential, Tai realized, feeling for the first time the frightened admiration that kept saner folk at a safe distance from the blond.

Then Tai shook this shadow of fear off, no problem, remembering that Matt already hated him, so there was nothing to lose. But how he'd loved it last night—he loved Tai's mouth and hands and eyes on him. If Tai could have done one thing different he'd have kissed those full lips, deeply. He'd have grabbed the back of his head to hold him in place and coax his pretty pink tongue out to play.

Tai watched with suspicion as the trumpet player made the rounds with a tip bucket during the last song before the band's break. He dropped a few bucks in when the boy passed by but narrowed his eyes, wondering if this was his competition. He was sure that some of this band of seven had either fucked Matt, were fucking Matt, or were waiting patiently to strike. He was so wrapped up judging, glaring at the unkempt drummer's playful smile and the neatly dressed sax player in hat and vest and tie that he jumped when a familiar voice drawled, "So how'd you find me?"

Tai took a drink to cover his surprise, eyes cataloguing the blonde's arched eyebrow and high cheekbones and every last centimeter of his face that he'd been denied the night before. When he was done, he shrugged carelessly and leaned in close to be heard, "It's a small town. Can I buy you a drink?"

"No."

"Do you forgive me?"

"No."

"Do you remember my name?" Tai asked, as Matt was forced closer by passing foot traffic.

Matt looked for a moment as if he didn't want to answer, but he couldn't help himself. "Tai," he said, frowning.

"So you've been thinking about me," Tai grinned.

"About how much I want to kill you, yeah."

"Don't lie," Tai stood from his stool, pushing it away and shepherding Matt against the mirror with an arm. Matt allowed himself to be moved, so that Tai's body shielded him from the jostling of the crowd. He took another step forward, ensuring Matt would be trapped against the wall, and slid a hand under the blond's jacket, fingers greedily reacquainting themselves with the warm skin beneath his soft t-shirt. Meeting no resistance apart from a murderous glare that only served to encourage him, Tai leaned in close to Matt's ear, "I want to finish what we started."

"What? The fight?" Matt tried purposefully to be difficult, tried to ignore his body's response to the closeness of the brunette.

"No," Tai said, hand sliding around to the small of Matt's back, pulling him closer, "I want to make you come," he said, mouth against Matt's soft hair.

Matt didn't resist, turning his head to press his lips to Tai's ear, "I want you to make me come, Tai," he said, too sweetly, drawing away slowly with wide, innocent eyes, "Just let me know when you get five grand together."

"Five _grand_?"

Matt shrugged, "That's my special price for you," he said, pressing a playful finger to Tai's lips and untangling himself from his arms.

"Yeah, right," Tai said, backing Matt up against the mirror again easily, finding years of soccer practice came in handy as he corralled this frustrating boy, "I don't believe you. And even if I did, I can't stop thinking about the way you begged. Please, please, _please_," Tai said, mocking Matt in a breathy voice.

"Fuck off," Matt said, firm as he pushed Tai back a step with a hand on his chest. But he lost a bit of control when he realized just how nice the brunette's body felt to the touch, so lean and hard as rock. He suddenly wondered if all of Tai's skin was the same sun-drenched color of his arms, and if it tasted sweet, like honey.

"I don't get it," Tai said, watching Matt's eyebrows quirk with interest as his fingers trailed down his chest and over his stomach. He caught the blond's wandering hand, startling him out of his spell, "You were staring at me all night."

"No I wasn't," Matt lied, blue eyes finding Tai's in an attempt to convince him, "I was checking on my roommate." Matt stared Tai down, biting his lip, hoping it would stick.

It stuck, but not in the way Matt hoped. Tai's smile sunk, momentarily devastated. But then the brunette remembered his second most important mission of the night.

"Your roommate! That's right," Tai pulled a little origami crane from the pocket of his jeans and held it out for Matt to take.

Matt looked from the crane to Tai, bewildered, until finally accepting it, pinching a wing between his forefinger and thumb. "Look, I get it," Tai said with an exaggerated sigh, "You hate me. But my friend, he was talking to your roommate all night. And they hit it off. He made me promise to get this to him if I ran into you."

Matt looked at the crane again, skeptically.

Tai shrugged, "His number's inside. He's…unique," Tai finished, coming up blank on a better word to explain Daisuke, short of just saying _Daisuke_, "He's totally lovesick. He's a wreck. Do you think you could pass that along? Please?"

Matt finally found his voice and his fury, "I don't want any friend of yours _near_ Ken."

"You've got all kinds of rules, don't you?" Tai grinned, leaning in to press his lips against the angry blond's ear one last time to say, "It makes sense. Your ass was _really _tight." He gave it a squeeze for good measure, making Matt jump in surprise and glare at him like he wanted to put another boot in his guts. He fled the bar with a rakish smile.

Face burning, Matt watched him go, crushing the crane in his fist.

* * *

><p>He arrived home after three in the morning, stumbling drunk. Tai and his smile were entirely to blame. He couldn't stop replaying their conversation, furious that he hadn't fought back against the brunette's easy way around him. It was pure arrogance. He was an arrogant piece of shit. But no, it wasn't arrogance, exactly. Tai was just so fucking comfortable around him, like they'd known each other for years. No one was comfortable around Matt. The blond made sure of that. If someone wanted in they had to work for it.<p>

_He's not even scared of me_, Matt thought, sourly, rifling through the fridge for a beer. Mission accomplished, he pried off the cap and drank. His hope was to cure a case of rage-induced hiccups by chugging as much beer as he could find, as quickly as possible, but then he spotted Ken's silhouette out on the balcony and walked outside to join him, mission forgotten.

Even so early in the morning, the street was still filled with revelers, laughing and fighting as they drifted beneath the gaslights. Ken watched from his seat, his legs drawn up to his chest against the chill in the air. Their wine bottles from the afternoon were lined up in a neat row along with two others. As Matt approached, Ken reached for his glass and tipped it, only to find it empty.

"You're—hic—you're right where I left you," Matt said, and the younger boy turned to watch him step onto the balcony, nodding absently.

"Have you moved all day?"

"Not really," Ken spoke softly, as always, but Matt could hear the sadness in his voice, closer to the surface than usual. He replaced his empty wineglass on the table.

"Did you eat anything?"

"No," Ken said, gaze returning to the street.

Matt held onto the doorframe to keep himself from tipping, an ominous feeling settling in the pit of his stomach as he watched Ken watching the street below, "Looking for someone in particular?" he asked, slowly, hoping he was wrong.

"Yeah," Ken said, not taking his eyes off the boisterous crowd.

"God-hic-goddamnit, Ken," Matt dug his hand into his pocket, marched tipsily over to Ken and smashed the balled up piece of paper into Ken's palm with a huff, "Here."

Before Ken could open it, Matt had disappeared down the hallway, cursing under his breath.

* * *

><p><strong>Next up:<strong> Chapter Three: _Day Parade_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Against all odds, and despite being (and not for the first time) present at a parade where shots were fired, I survived Mardi Gras with only minor emotional scarring! But will the boys? Dun Dun DUNNN!

**Mardi Gras 201:**

Again, you don't have to flash for beads except on Bourbon Street (the tourist center of activity in New Orleans). All you do to get beads is hang out on the parade route. You don't even have to try. But IF you try, (by jumping around, waving your arms, and yelling) you'll get a lot. During Carnival they run about 3 parades a day down St. Charles Avenue, a picturesque, oak-lined street that leads toward downtown. Many stake out turf, put up tents, grill, and generally live on the parade routes for the final week of parades. That's the culture of the big parades (Bacchus, Muses, Rex, Zulu, etc.), but there are an infinite number of small foot parades taking place at all times, unannounced, some even unplanned, throughout the city, too. It's legal to drink in the streets year round, as long as the container isn't glass. You can buy a daiquiri of any size up to a gallon (served to you in a milk jug) at a Drive-Thru daiquiri stand. It's a faux pas to pick up throws (like beads and cups, etc) once they touch the ground, but if no one sees you do it and the throw is particularly nice…well. Some of this is relevant, some of it isn't, I just like talking about Mardi Gras. ;)

Shall we continue?

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three: <strong>_**Day Parade**_

"Hey, pretty boy!" A float rider leered from behind his shiny mask, "Want to see my banana?"

Daisuke's mouth had already opened to tell the guy to fuck off when Ken answered, sounding blasé, "Fine. Let's see it."

The man laughed, tossing a banana plushie with a goofy, single-toothed grin down to Ken with a wink as his float rolled away. Ken showed it to Daisuke, amused, "Kind of looks like you," he teased.

Daisuke was thrilled to be teased by a half-drunk Ken but he very sportingly managed to cross his arms with an indignant sniff, "Does not. Mom always says I'm handsome."

Ken shook his head but didn't answer, biting back a smile. He reached up absently to brush a few loose strands of dark hair from his face, only to have Daisuke beat him there. With a gentle touch, his fingers traced behind his ear, then trailed lightly down to catch Ken's chin. Ken's mouth fell open in protest, but when his wide eyes met Daisuke's the words wouldn't come.

Of course, Daisuke would've kissed him, but at that moment another float rolled by at top speed, which is to say, three miles an hour, and the pair were pelted with beads until they were forced to break their gaze to defend themselves, laughing.

Parades are such long, slow-moving things. To make a parade go faster, just walk up the route, to see it again simply weave down the road past the lines of chairs and tents, the kids running underfoot, the old men with their stinking cigars. The boys had made a day of it, walking up and down St. Charles, eating carnival food and drinking candy-colored daiquiris with inscrutable names like "High Octane" and "Krunk Juice" as they talked.

"Some people think the big parades are just for kids, but that's bullshit. I love them," Daisuke said, taking a seat on a curb and watching Ken do the same, long legs folded elegantly to the side. Daisuke sat back on his hands with a contented sigh, "I mean, the whole city's here. You can't beat that, you know," Daisuke furled a hand around, looking for the word, "energy-wise."

Ken snorted as he peeled the lid off his cup, looking to see how much was left. Surprisingly little. "I haven't been to one since I first came to the city," he admitted, replacing the lid with minor difficultly, "and I didn't collect nearly this much…stuff," he said, lifting up the collection of beads around his neck and letting it drop again with a satisfying smack against his chest.

"It's 'cause you're with me. I'm lucky," Daisuke bragged, just as another pair of beads came flying, knocking the daiquiri from his hand, "Fuck!"

The sweating, oversized Styrofoam cup had been camouflaged with a sticky layer of dirt and dried leaves by the time Daisuke stopped its rolling progress with his foot, "Need a new cup for my drink," he mumbled to himself, and with a swift, "I'll be right back," plunged into the crowd swarming the nearest stalled-out float shouting, "Cup! Cup! Cup!"

Ken smiled after him, thoughtlessly fingering the string of beads in his hand like a rosary. It was the kind of thing Sam would say, '_Cause you're with me_, and for a dizzying moment as he lost sight of Daisuke among the revelers, Ken was swept up in dread. He'd forgotten his own vow, to keep himself distant, to pay his debt quietly, by himself. He certainly wasn't atoning for anything _here_, drunk on a curb, draped in beads, flirting. Daisuke said it wasn't a date but it was a date. No one ever said do you want to come with me to blah blah blah, _as friends_, and actually meant it.

And the worst part was, Ken wanted him. From the moment he'd shown up at the apartment, out of his tux, dressed instead in shorts and a t-shirt and a grin, Ken had wanted to pull him inside by the hand and kiss him, never mind the parade, let Daisuke hold him and touch him and make him feel something other than guilt. Which, terribly, was what made him feel guiltier than ever before. He didn't deserve this happiness—it had been a mistake to pine for him after the ball, selfish to feel so good after getting his number, a scandal to dial it with shaky, deceitful fingers, and an outrage to accept his invitation. Better to end it now, he thought sadly, watching Daisuke reemerge beaming from the crowd holding a child's ransom in throws, before it hurt worse.

"There's a cup in here somewhere," Daisuke announced, triumphant, falling back onto the curb beside Ken and depositing his armload on the ground between them, "Help me look."

"Daisuke—"

"Ooh, a Moon Pie. For you," Daisuke held out the little marshmallow pastry in its attractive wrapper for Ken to take, ignoring the boy's pleading look, "Eat it, you look drunk."

"Daisuke—"

"And a cup for me!" Daisuke held it up, rotating his hand to admire the design before pouring his daiquiri gingerly from dirt-covered Styrofoam into colorful plastic, "Where's yours? We'll mix them."

"Daisuke," Ken grasped his arm, desperate to get it over and done with, "Daisuke, _listen_, I'm sorry, but I have to tell you. I used to do heroin. Matt found me half-dead on the street last year. And before that I sold it. And before that my brother overdosed on it. And before that we rode here in a boxcar, because he had to give up everything to save me from my evil fucking parents because my dad used to touch me, and my mom hit me when I tried to tell her. So he brought me down here. And he started selling. And he started using. And then he overdosed. And then I was alone. And I fucking sold it, to kids, who probably died, too, just like him. I sold it to them, just like he sold it, just like someone sold it to him. Then I thought I should die, and I started to use it, but I didn't die, and I kept using it. Okay?" Ken took a breath, wringing his hands, "So I can't date you. And I can't pretend to be friends with you. I don't deserve friends, and I don't deserve to live, and I don't deserve you."

After Ken finished, Daisuke whistled, eyebrows pitched high on his forehead, then he took a pensive drink from his newly-won cup. Ken sat, tense and teary-eyed, waiting. He hadn't meant for it to all come out so quickly, practically his whole, pathetic life story, but it had, and it was the truth. Daisuke, still not speaking, made a waving motion with his hand, growing gradually more impatient, until Ken finally understood, handing his daiquiri over. He watched, breathing hard from his outburst, as Daisuke poured what was left of Ken's drink into the cup, sloshing it around to mix the flavors.

"A junkie, huh?" he asked, once he was satisfied with the drink.

Ken jumped, startled from his own panicked thoughts by the sound of Daisuke's voice. Meeting warm brown eyes, he nodded.

"That's crazy," Daisuke said, simply, and handed Ken the cup. The last float of the parade passed, followed by a fire truck. Then the empty road was filled again with revelers from both sides of the street. Kids threw freshly-caught cloth footballs through the air, couples walked giggling arm in arm past street vendors pushing trollies of cotton candy, feather boas, and light up plastic swords, a group dance broke out half a block up, to a stereo blasting "Cupid Shuffle," and Ken stretched his legs out in front of him and took a nervous gulp of daiquiri.

"So you want to date me?" Daisuke asked after a while, casually.

"I said I couldn't date you."

"Well, yeah," Daisuke conceded, "But the way you said it kind of sounded like—"

"Were you listening? I'm not…" Ken flailed for the word, "normal."

"Yeah, I know that," Daisuke answered as if he were talking to an idiot, "You're special."

Ken's mouth opened and shut. In the distance, the drums of the next parade along with the sirens of the police escort could be heard approaching. Slowly, reluctantly, the street began to clear. As the crowd pressed back into their places on either side of the road, Daisuke stood to make room for newcomers, pulling Ken up after him. Ken watched him watch the approaching parade, feeling sick, like he might faint, or puke, or both. But he did neither, instead he leaned back against the trunk of an oak, willing his heart to stop pounding as he considered the odd reality that Daisuke hadn't run, or even seemed to particularly care. The red and blue of the slowly passing cop cars flickered over a face that seemed deep in thought but also surprisingly untroubled. Until, without warning, he turned to face Ken looking stricken, "You'd really rather be dead than here with me?"

"No," Ken said, flushing with embarrassment at his own words, "I didn't mean it like that."

Daisuke searched his eyes for a moment, as if to find the truth, then exhaled, genuinely relieved, "That's good. That's _great_. 'Cause I like you a lot, you know that, and I don't really care what you did or how terrible you think you are. It's just that, I've got this very serious hang up about the guys I date," Daisuke paused, wincing as if Ken wouldn't like what was coming, and Ken leaned closer, steadying himself for a blow, "See, I strictly date guys that are alive, you know? Not dead ones. Not ones who wish they were dead. Or ones that are like, planning to die. Or ones who think they should be dead when they clearly aren't. No dead boyfriends for me. So if you want to date me so badly then you can't say stuff like that anymore. Deal?"

Ken realized he was already nodding, not to mention grinning stupidly, so he went ahead and said, "Yes."

Daisuke smiled, taking Ken's hand from where it dangled, limp, at his side, and smacked a shimmering purple slap bracelet around his wrist, "There. So now you're mine. And all your crazy bullshit's mine, too. Your turn. If you want to," He held out a second bracelet for Ken to take, which he did.

"Where'd you get these?" Ken asked, struck dumb, as he uncurled it into a rigid line.

"Caught them," Daisuke said, head tilting, "Duh."

The crowd condensed around them as a marching band passed, making way for the swinging trombones. Because it was impossible to be heard over the drumline, Ken didn't say anything before taking Daisuke's wrist in his hand. He still couldn't decide if it was right or wrong, but he knew he wanted it, and it was Carnival. After a sharp snap the deed was done, but their fingers stayed tangled together. The first float had passed by before either boy moved. Then Daisuke reeled Ken in to capture his lips in a gentle kiss, and Ken wrapped his arms around Daisuke's shoulders to pull him even closer, without a moment's hesitation, just the way he'd wanted to all day long. Daisuke ran his hands greedily through Ken's cool, silky hair as beads and glittering coins fell in a shower all around them.

* * *

><p>"Catch anything good?" Taichi asked.<p>

"Yeah," Daisuke answered, still feeling light-headed. Having immediately lost interest in the parade, he'd pulled Ken a block from the route into the alcove of a shuttered restaurant, pressing the slender boy's back to the brick as their kisses turned heated. It hadn't gone too far—they hadn't even taken their beads off—but it'd been enough to give Daisuke jelly-legs, walking him home afterwards.

He wanted to see inside the apartment but Matt had opened the door at the sound of their laughter as they were making out on the landing, crushing his chances. Matt's curious expression had turned mildly lethal. The blond did _not_ like him, that much was obvious. But then, with a tug on his heart during the long walk home, beads bouncing noisily on his chest with every step, Daisuke remembered what Ken had said, that Matt had plucked him up off the street and gotten him clean, so maybe it was just a healthy overprotective streak that inspired the searing, blue-eyed glare. So it was with a swell of pride for both of them—Matt for keeping Ken safe until Daisuke could find him and perfect, gorgeous Ken for nearly getting him off with _kisses_—that Daisuke stared down Tai later that night, knowing exactly what was expected of him.

"Well?"

"What?" Daisuke played dumb. He was very, very good at it.

"You know what. Where does he live?"

"Who?"

"Daisuke—"

"What?"

Tai groaned, hiding his face in his arms, "Where does Matt live? I want to go see him."

"Right now?"

"No, not right now. It's like, one in the morning."

"Is it?" Daisuke was honestly surprised as he sat down in his usual seat across from Tai in the overgrown courtyard their apartments shared. He must've spent more time with Ken in the alcove than he thought. But then again, he'd had a hard time stopping, with Ken's little moans of _Dai_ and the way his hips moved under Daisuke's hands. He was so fucking skinny. It drove Daisuke wild. His eyes fluttered closed, remembering the tilt of Ken's neck in offering, so Daisuke could taste the warm skin below his jaw, and nip at the hollow of his smooth throat—though it tasted terrible, like the Mardi Gras beads he had to fight to get there. Swimming in memory, his head nearly slipped from its perch where it rested on his fist.

"How drunk are you?" Tai asked, watching the scene in front of him with confusion.

"I'm not. Are you?"

"Daisuke—" Tai started.

"I'm not gonna tell you," Daisuke said, firmly, "ever."

"Ever," Tai repeated, disbelieving.

"That's right," Daisuke said, gaining steam, chin held high, "I've got a good thing going here, a _normal_ thing, not like you and your freaky, costumed, love-hate…whatever-the-fuck. It's good, and I want to keep it, so I can't have you lurking around the place, ruining everything." In fact, he'd already decided. Since Ken didn't think he deserved happiness, Daisuke was going to personally prove him wrong over and over and over again. Ken deserved everything, as far as Daisuke was concerned. Moon pies and daiquiris and kisses and happiness and anything else he could give him.

"Please?" Tai begged.

Daisuke shook his head.

"I'll follow you there," Tai threatened.

Daisuke refused to cave.

"But he's so hot," Tai pouted, bottom lip quivering.

Daisuke looked away, unmoved.

"What if…" Tai said, drawing Daisuke's gaze back at his deceptively playful tone, "We drink for it. Right now. And if I win, you give me the address, and I swear no one will ever know it was you who gave it to me." Daisuke opened his mouth to argue, of course they'd know it was him, right away, but Tai interrupted, with a finger raised for silence, "And if you win I swear to forget all about Matt and leave you and your pretty boyfriend alone. Deal?"

Daisuke, with a dreamy smile, remembered that it was true—he really did have a boyfriend that he wanted to be left alone with very much, please and thank you—and just maybe, hmm, if Tai were around, distracting the perpetually angry blond, he might get _more_ time alone with Ken, and sooner rather than later. Win, win. So he nodded, and they shook on it with equally devious smirks on their equally confident faces, "Deal."

* * *

><p>Matt woke up in a good mood for such an early hour. Usually he'd languish in bed until the sun shone high in the sky, getting up in the early afternoon for a shower and coffee. Even then, he rarely ventured outside before evening fell. But today, feeling luxurious after a full night of sleep, he kicked off the fluffy blankets and didn't bother getting dressed apart from his clingy, dark boxers before he threw open the French doors that led onto the balcony from his bedroom. He craved sunlight and a warm breeze, the hum of the festive tourists passing by below, the rich, sugary smell of pralines from the nearby candy shop, even the pungent scent of seafood boiling at the French Market.<p>

Instead of any of that, what assaulted his senses from the moment he pulled the gauze curtain aside was a mass of humidity-puffed hair, a slow once over from drowsy, dark eyes, and a too-familiar voice saying, "Mornin' beautiful."

* * *

><p><strong>Next up:<strong> Chapter Four: _Central Lockup_

**A/N:** Please review/follow/favorite if you like it! This story hasn't been getting nearly any comment love. *sniffle*


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